


Share It With Me?

by backwardsandastray



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Absent Parents, Happy Ending, a little anxiety, courfeyrac is actually the best, little combeferre, some fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:52:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwardsandastray/pseuds/backwardsandastray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre forgets important things sometimes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Share It With Me?

Combeferre never quite felt the need for attention. He was always just a little weary of the thought of everyone’s eyes on him; scrutinizing his every move. Because surely then would they uncover the masses of imperfections he tried to so hard to drown. He’d drown them in averageness, never quite crossing over the line to interesting, but never stepping back far enough to be considered boring. 

He learned early in life that calling for attention brought time-outs and therefore loneliness; his parents were modest people, despite their perfectionism and pride. Although, being lonely was never something Combeferre was afraid of either. He spent countless warm nights roaming the halls of his childhood home (big enough to be castle, he thought) documenting which windows, when opened, cast the most light into his darkened room, or which floor was the creakiest, and which carpet was the softest. His parents were people of old money; economically conservative and socially liberal, always on the next plane to whatever business was of importance. He can remember having ten nannies over a span of nine years, each one becoming his closest friend at the time. He remembered the departures of those friends; running up to his room to condense his body in the smallest corner, crying until his parents scolded him on his pathetic behaviour. Losing his nannies was hard for Combeferre. He knew he wasn’t socially enthusiastic or outgoing and friendly; his nannies were the only ones who understood the little boy. They would often find him the oddest places; sometimes hidden in the attic with a book under his nose, other times crouched behind the coats in the family wardrobe, reading yet another book. 

His third nanny found him hidden under his bed after an evening of thunderstorms. As soon as she walked into the room, he prepared himself for a scolding, for he only thought of the rigid words spoken by his absent parents and what they would surely say if they found their son in that moment. To his wonder, she held out her hand and wore a gentle smile, reassuring him that the loud noises had passed, and that no one was hurt. He took her hand and followed her to the kitchen, where the clock on the stove read 3:35am. She sat him down after handing him his glasses, and smiled at him from across the kitchen. 

“You know what day it is today?” She asked, turning her body towards the tallest cupboard in the kitchen. Combeferre tried to remember in vain, anxiety washing over him at the thought of missing an important date.

“I can’t remember, sorry.” He whispered, shame burning its way through his chest as he looked down at the table beneath his fingertips. He had once been grounded for forgetting the date of his first violin recital. He shrunk lower in his seat, twiddling his thumbs together as he waited for her words of disappointment. He met her gaze as a look of concern settled on her face. Combeferre looked down once again, confusion boiling in his mind. He pictured which corner he would choose to curl up in later.

“You really don’t know?” She whispered the question as if speaking to loudly would hurt the little boy.

“No.” His face was getting hot from embarrassment. 

“It’s your birthday, my friend.” She spoke louder this time, walking up beside him and taking both of his hands on one of hers. “You’re eight years old today.” She kissed him on the cheek squeezed his shoulder gently. “I thought, since we’re both having trouble sleeping, that we could celebrate.”

He grinned at her, feeling silly that he forgot his own birthday, though birthdays were never important business in his house; he’d never had a birthday party before, nor excitedly told the kids in his class when the day came around. He didn’t want to be the centre of attention, he didn’t want the class to sing him happy birthday as they did for the other kids, he didn’t want birthday bumps, and he didn’t want his classmates to pretend to care about him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want anyone to care for him (he enjoyed when the nannies would ask him how his day was when he got home from school, or when they played chess with him on sleepless and warm summer nights), he just cringed at the thought of trusting someone who would throw him out the second they realized how average he was.

“I’ve never celebrated my birthday before.” He responded, sitting up taller to inspect what she had taken out of the fridge, obviously intent on hiding it from him for the time being. He saw her pause for a moment as she put the mystery item on the counter. She turned around and smiled once more as she saw the curiosity in his expression. 

“I thought as much,” She responded slightly bitter, “so, you are going to have your first ever birthday cake!” She shuffled over excitedly, placing a big piece of chocolate cake on the table. “I know you love chocolate, so you better eat it before I do.” She teased him. He looked at the pastry with wonder. He’d never had cake before, and she only knew he loved chocolate because of the time she baked him chocolate cookies, laughing at the expression on his face as he devoured six of them in one minute. He devoured the cake just as fast, smiling up at her with a chocolate covered face. She grabbed a cloth from behind her and rubbed the remaining cake from his mouth. 

“Thank you.” He spoke softly, a little embarrassed of his atrocious manners. He frowned at the thought of his parents finding out about their little “celebration” when they returned. He didn’t want another nanny to leave him yet again. 

“It’s no problem whatsoever. Every kid needs to have at least one slice of birthday cake before their tenth birthday.” She plucked his plate out from under his gaze, and slid it into the sink.

“Happy Birthday, kiddo.”  
He gave her the biggest hug his little body could muster. 

*  
“Happy birthday, ‘Ferre.” 

He opened his eyes to find Courfeyrac sitting cross legged beside him on the bed, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He was wearing one off Combeferre’s old volunteer shirts from last year’s charity function at hospital, along with his favourite bright green boxers. He blinked, suddenly remembering he had to be at the same hospital in fifteen mintues! 

“Shit. I’m gonna be late.” He slurred, lifting himself off his pillow. Courfeyrac locked his arms around his waist as the med student tried in vain to roll over and reach for his phone. He tried to pry open his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around him, but Courfeyrac hitched his leg around the man, making it impossible for him to move anything. 

“Courf, I have to be there in twelve minutes. The hospital doesn’t stop because of someone’s birthday.”

“I called in twenty minutes ago. You are nauseated and dizzy, and you sneeze every ten seconds.” The curly-haired man said, impersonating Combeferre’s voice perfectly. Combeferre glared at the law student, hoping his expression would loosen the arms around his waist enough for him to quickly reach for his phone. He hated lying, especially when his help was needed. His expression just widened the smile on his partner’s face, warming Combeferre’s heart in the process.

“I hate you sometimes.” The med student laughed as his boyfriend rolled over to lay on top of him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“You love me. Don’t lie to yourself, my dear. It doesn’t suit you.” Courfeyrac kissed him lightly, and then proceeded to roll off the bed dramatically. Combeferre chuckled at the sight as he lifted his upper body in order to sit up. 

Courfeyrac continued to roll around on floor, as Combeferre sat down beside him, running his fingers over the softest carpet he had yet to encounter. His boyfriend flung an arm over his eyes, complaining about how he had fallen from such heights, and yet no one had come to rescue him. 

Combeferre stared at the law student with adoration, melting this moment into his memory, using it to pave over bad nights filled with lightning and loneliness, bad mornings filled with parting friendships, and bad days engulfed in the darkness of disappointment. Courfeyrac grabbed his hand and pulled him along to the kitchen. He stopped by the fridge and pulled out something shielded by tinfoil and saran wrap.

“I know you love chocolate ‘Ferre, so don’t try to get out of eating this.” He pealed the wrapping away and handed him a fairly gigantic piece of chocolate cake. The med student paused, remembering the first time he felt important; the first time someone told him they cared. He couldn’t help but smile at the rekindled memory, basking in the knowledge that he really was loved. 

“Share it with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry if this is completely terrible, I wrote it on a sick day...


End file.
